


Virgin's Blood

by httpstiles



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angels, Character Death, Demon Jackson Whittemore, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demons, Hurt Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jackson is possessed by a demon the pack assumes that he wants Derek.</p><p>When Sam and Dean Winchester find themselves tracking Crowley to a small town in California by the name of Beacon Hills, they find an entry in John's journal that surprises them. <br/>"What the hell?" Sam says reading through the page. "Since when do werewolves live in packs and not eat peoples' hearts?" Dean peaks over at the date.<br/>"Since December 15th of 2002 apparently."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virgin's Blood

"What the hell?" Sam says reading through the page. "Since when do werewolves live in packs and not eat peoples' hearts?" Dean peaks over at the date.

"Since… December 15th, 2002 apparently."

“Well, if dad said that they’re not a threat, why are we going to Bacon— Beacon Hills?”

“Damn it Sammy don’t you listen to anything I say? We’re just following Crowley’s path of death. It happens to be the next city that people are turning up dead. We just don’t get involved and nothing goes wrong.”

 

“Okay, cool we got him. Is he knocked out?” Stiles is walking in and Scott and Boyd are standing guard outside the room, listening to make sure no one shows up unexpectedly at the warehouse. Stiles doesn’t even know where Derek is.

“Yeah,” Erica nodded.

“And why did we soak the ropes in holy water and not wolfs bane?” Isaac questions.

“Because we don’t want to hurt Jackson, it’s a demon possessing him. Not him gone feral.” Isaac looks surprised and Erica’s jaw drops.

“What? How did you figure that out?”

“When he got in Scott’s face at school yesterday, he looked at me and his eyes were black. I did all this research last night before I told you all about the plan. The fact that the waters is currently burning at his wrists,” Stiles points out the red irritated skin that looks like a burn under the ropes, “totally proved it. I couldn’t be too sure before.”

And, well, either way, it would be Stiles to figure it all out. But why was this demon using Jackson’s body to get around town and kill? Of everyone in the town, it chooses a werewolf­? ­—Wait that actually makes sense. All the killings have looked like animal attacks. The police could never suspect a human with the way all the bodies look.

But then again why in Beacon Hills? Was the thing out to out the pack? It’d made Jackson attack Derek a couple times in public with some punches and people were staring. Was that what it was trying to do?

Jacks­—well, _it_ , was waking up now and it struggled against the ropes, hissing and then staring at Stiles.

“Showtime,” he mutters to Erica and Isaac. He turns to Jacks­—the thing and smiles as he crouches down in front of him. “What do you want with Derek?” Jackson’s eyes blink and then they’re all black.

“I don’t want Derek.” Isaac and Erica exchange worried and confused glances.

“What do you want then?”

“You.” A moment of silence passes and suddenly Jackson’s eyes aren’t black and he’s gasping, looking around like he’s crazy. Stiles is unmoving and Jackson stares at Isaac looking for answers, except their eyes are burning into Stiles’ back.

“Stiles,” Erica tried calling out. “Stiles, are you okay?” His head shoots back and he stares at them. He blinks. Black eyes.

“Stiles isn’t here anymore,” he replies with a smile. In a second, he stands and his hand shoots out. Isaac and Erica fly against the wall and Scott and Boyd are trying to get in. The demon laughs, and when the two finally come in, they go flying back out in half a second. The demon turns to Jackson and he’s still tied to the chair.

“Now that we’ve shared a mind, we can’t really let them know my plans, can we?” It grabs Jackson’s head and there’s a crack that echoes in the room. His eyes are wide and he’s not breathing when the demon steps out of the room. Scott and Boyd are up again and growling at the demon. The smile falters and he blinks. Stiles’ eyes are back to normal and his hands fly up to his head and he’s screaming.  
            “STOP!” It’s so loud that his voice cracks on the one word and tears are flying down his face. His eyes shut again and are black when they open. The demon stands straight and the tears are gone. Erica and Isaac jump out of the room.

“It’s a demon. A demon possesses him,” Isaac says worried. “It just killed Jackson. Jackson’s dead.” His voice cracks and Erica looks about to kill Stiles, but she can’t because it’s _not Stiles._

“Yeah…,” the demon drags out. “I’d like to stay and chat, but you’re all a waste of time.” He waves and then he’s gone.

Scott falls to his knees where Stiles last stood.

“Call Derek, now. Tell him what’s happened. Isaac, help me find a scent.” Even though, he’s disappeared, he’s travelled through air, he doesn’t just vanish, he moves with the wind; there’s a scent to follow and he’s sure he can find it.

 

“He would pick some abandoned Coal Mining District,” Dean mutters looking at the demons. And he would infest an entire population of people with demons to keep him and Sam out.

“How are we going to take them all out?”

“God, we need a plan before we go walking­— what the hell?” Dean pulls the binoculars out and he stares at the events unfolding. Sam grabs them and he’s just as surprised.

“I guess the demons fucked with the werewolves.”

In front of one of the main buildings, Sam and Dean can see five werewolves fighting. A girl stands out of view right behind them; she looks to be reading something out of a book.

“Can you tell what she’s saying?” Dean asks.

“Holy shit, she’s­—,” Black smoke flies out of ten bodies and down into the ground. The workers collapse and the girl stands up from behind a dumpster and they’re all running inside.

 

“One virgin as you asked, Crowley.” The demon is gone and Stiles blinks. He’s in a dark room and there’s a table in the middle with straps­— oh, _God_. The room smells of blood and decaying something.

“What do you want with me?” Crowley lets a smile break and he gives a small chuckle.

“Well, see, Mr. Stilinski­—,”  
            “How do you know my name?”

“­—I have a recipe that calls for some hard to find things. One of the easier ones happens to be Virgin’s Blood.” Stiles gulps and his heart hammers in his chest.

“But why me? And who are you?”

“Crowley, King of Hell.” Stiles steps back only to hit someone’s body, and then get shoved forward, and now he’s unmoving and he’s just a foot closer to the ‘King of Hell’. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I would say the same but not really,” he mutters in response.

“I like you, but see when I started searching for the right virgin, I came across quite a few. One of them was your friend Isaac. Now that would have been nice, but he’s a werewolf. I even thought of an old friend of yours, Heather, but then I saw you.” Crowley takes a few steps forward and he’s in front of Stiles, whispering in his ear. “See, you have a gift. You probably don’t even know about it yet, but that makes your blood special.” He traces his finger along Stiles’ neck. “I like special things.” He backs up and calls two guys over, or maybe they’re demons, too? “Have some fun with him and then strip and strap him down on the table. But don’t be using him because I need him a virgin.” Stiles isn’t given any time to react because there’s something smacking his head and then he’s pretty sure the ground is reaching up to smack him.

When he comes to, he’s on the table and it’s tilted; the angle has blood flowing to his head and his legs rose higher than the upper half of his body. He knows he has bruises because he feels sore all over his torso and by his arms.

_“Hold him still while I kick him, would ya?” The hands on him tighten and at this point, they’re also the only thing holding him up. “Do you think if I hit only once hard enough, I can break a rib?”_

_“No way.”_

_“I bet you five souls.”_

_“I bet you ten that you can’t.”_

Stiles wonders where the demon’s going to get ten souls from.

Brown, wide, leather straps keep him secured to the table. One covers his mouth and it’s pulling so tight that he can’t move his lips. Two separate ones cover his chest and his privates, and then another around his ankles. When he tries to move his arms is when he notices his arms are above his head, a strap around each wrist. He’s so uncomfortable and he’s about to die and it’s all so fucked up.

And then he remembers killing Jackson. He tries to hold back tears and it’s a good thing he does because Crowley is stepping in front of him with a scalpel.

“So it’s slow,” he says.

There’s sharp pain as he realizes the scalpel is cutting parallel to his veins. Blood trickles down his hand and this guy must be collecting it all in a container or something. The last thing he hears is howling, growling and a whole lot of chaos.

 

“Why should we trust hunters?”

“Why should _we_ trust werewolves?”

“I’m actually human,” Lydia coughs raising her hand.  “But that’s beside the point. Derek, we need help because we can’t kill demons and they’ve already told us that they know you don’t kill humans, so we should really trust them if they’re willing to trust us. Stiles could be dying in there.” Derek growls and nods, looking at the oldest brother.

“If you really know what you’re doing, then lead the way.”

 

Stiles is jostled to a little more than half consciousness when someone levels the table. His head spins and he’s not even moving.

“Stiles,” he barely hears. “Stiles.” Derek. He knows the voice so well. “Shit, he’s lost too much blood. Scott, find his pants. He can wear my jack­— fuck, give me your shirt I need to wrap his wrists.”

When he finally gets to where Stiles can get up, he finds out Stiles can’t really even stand on his own. He tosses his keys to Scott and tells him to bring the car to the entrance.

“Stiles, I need you to cross your arms on your chest so the shirts stay around your wrists and don’t hang loose. I’m going to carry you. Does it hurt anywhere?  
            “M’ribs,” he barely whispers. “Think one is broken.”

“We’ll get that taken care of, just hold on okay?” He nods in response and Derek looks to the Winchesters. “Thank you.”

Dean has a sad face when he looks to the boy.

“It was no problem. Crowley is dead, which we thought would never happen and your friend is alive. That boy’s got an angle watching out for him.”

“We need to go now, though,” Scott says. “He needs rest and Derek, I already called my mo­—,”

“Did someone call me?” The werewolves get in attack positions at the man in the trench coat. “That’s really unnecessary dear creatures. I’m an angel.”

“He’s so blunt,” Sam mutters behind him.

“Someone is hurt,” Castiel states.

“The boy,” Dean says pointing. “Crowley used him for Virgin’s Blood.” Castiel nods and steps forward to Stiles. “I will heal him, do not worry,” he tells the pack.

He places his finger on Stiles head and the werewolves lose his scent of hurt. But something happens, a small glow of light emits from Stiles head and Castiel removes his hand. He _smiles_.

“He possesses great power.” The smile is gone and he turns the Derek. “I can do nothing for his blood loss so I recommend water, food, and rest. Don’t move him around, keep him in one place.” He takes a step away and there the sound of a blanket being unfolded and Castiel is gone.

“What the fuck?” Everyone turns to Stiles. He’s still quiet and although he’s awake, his eyes are shut. “That was a fucking Angel; am I the only one that wants to freak out?”

Erica laughs and walks over to pet at Stiles hair.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

It’s the middle of the night and everyone is asleep, but Stiles refuses to.

“Stiles?” Well, he thought everyone was asleep.

“I killed Jackson.” His knees are up to his chest. Scott tries to tell him that he didn’t, but Stiles shakes his head. He looks down at Derek, who’s asleep on the floor, letting Stiles sleep in his bed. He’s surprised he isn’t awake by now. “I felt every moment of when that thing was inside of me. I was aware of what it did. It was only half through snapping his neck when it let me in for two seconds. I­— I finished it. I killed­ him. I didn’t mean to, I swear, I swear, I swear.” He shakes his head and buries his face into his knees and he doesn’t hold in the cries. The day has caught up to him and he has every right to cry.

Derek stirs awake when Scott walks from the doorway to the bed. There’s a small creak when Scott crawls next to Stiles and he gets up to see what’s making the noise.

When he looks on the bed, his heart aches for his pack member. There’s a tug and the betas are bound to wake up any minute and feel it. He gets up on the bed, too, next to Stiles and grabs Stiles face. He’s staring him in the eyes.

“You are not at fault. You did not kill Jackson. You couldn’t control what happened.” And yeah, the pack totally wants to cry over the loss of Jackson, but around Stiles isn’t going to ever be the best because he will always feel his hands on Jackson when his neck snaps and he will always feel his dead eyes looking at him as if to ask _why_. 

 


End file.
